Yellow Punishment
by Eleanor Ariail
Summary: My response to Rocketshoes's drabble contest. A slightly skewed look at Yellow. Plus, a wee, lisping dominatrix!


Notes: Finally got it down to exactly 1000 words! Reminded me of my college days, only reversed. I think this was harder than adding words. Anyway, thanks to RocketShoes for the great picture and challenge! Check it out at: http://rocketshoes. deviantart. com/art/13-Yellow-74677020

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The verdict was clear, the sentence swift. Guilty - of promising a dance to the youngest princess, and then leaving the party without delivering. The punishment? Whatever DG wanted.

The queen had a large interrogation chair set in the center of the debris-strewn ballroom. Ambrose sat down gracefully and fastened the waist restraint himself.

"Your majesty, surely this is unnecessary? I would be more than happy to dance with her, as much as she would like." Ambrose smiled charmingly as the queen tightened the small ropes around his arms.

"Sorry, Ambrose, a promise is a promise. I'll come back and get you later tonight," she whispered, so that DG couldn't overhear her from the corner, where she was concentrating intently on something.

"Your majesty," he began again, his voice a little higher, "I do have some important paperwork I need to catch up on today."

"Well, I suppose you should have thought of that last night, before you disappointed my daughter." The queen stood back and surveyed her work carefully. She may have been raised in a palace, but she knew her knots. Her advisor would not be going anywhere until she returned.

She raised her voice so DG could hear her, "Nobody stands up a princess and gets away with it! I hope she punishes you severely for what you have done."

"I thure will!" DG shouted from her corner of the room. She had begun lisping when she lost her lower front teeth, though it was getting better now that they were growing back in.

The queen smiled, then turned back to the captive man before her. "In that case, I will leave you in her capable hands." She smirked and mockingly bowed her head to him.

"Please, see reason... Your majesty!" Ambrose tried to call her back, but she had already left the ballroom, latching the door behind her.

He let out a heavy sigh and thumped his head against the chair in frustration. He stared at the ceiling, bemoaning his fate. He counted the balloons that had gotten away and were still hovering above the ballroom. 24. Interesting, he thought, seeing as how that was also the number for the magical element that made them float.

Speaking of elements though, he really did need to get back to his work. He glanced over at DG. She was sitting in the floor, facing away from him, working furiously on something.

"What are you doing, DG? Are you almost ready?" he called to her impatiently.

She shook a little pair of safety scissors over her shoulder at him. "You juth thit there and think about what you've done!"

He rolled his eyes and pursed his mouth to the side. It was a line he had heard her mother use on her many times. "I know I was bad, I'm sorry, I won't do it again," he said monotonously, attempting the princess's own usual response.

"Too late!" DG hopped up and began marching over to him. She was clutching bunches of yellow strips in both hands.

"DG, did you cut up your sister's birthday banner?" Ambrose said, in the most authoritative tone he could muster while tied to a chair.

"She doethn't need it, it'th not her birthday anymore," DG said, shaking her head in exasperation at him.

"Okay, I guess you're right. What are you going to do to me, then?" He asked mildly, becoming resigned to his fate.

"You get to be my dolly! Firth, I'll do your hair. I made fifty ribbonth for you!" She flung the long strips at him and began to climb up his legs.

"Can you even count to fifty?" Ambrose idly wondered, trying to quickly estimate the actual number of ribbons in his lap.

DG looked at him sternly, now eye to eye. "Clothe enough." She picked up a ribbon and began tugging on his hair.

"Ouch, a little gentler, please!" He squirmed, trying to get away from her grasping fingers.

"You broke your promithe, Ambrothe," she entwined her fingers in his hair again, pulling even harder.

"No, please, don't do this -" He could handle the indignity of having his hair tied up, but he happened to have a very sensitive scalp, and her small, slightly sticky hands seemed to yank every hair they touched.

"Please, it won't work!" he begged for mercy, "You'll never even fit fifty ribbons in my hair!" He pulled his leg up into the chair, trying to pry himself free.

"Thtop movin'!" DG slapped his forehead as hard as she could, knocking him back suddenly. His skull made a loud crack as it connected with the wooden chair.

"That, that hurt. A little. I..." he trailed off as the ballroom spun and finally went dark.

"Good, now maybe you'll be thtill," DG pushed his head so that it lolled to the side and continued her ribbon tying.

After only a few more little bows though, DG's fingers began to get tired. Now that he wasn't wiggling around, Ambrose was actually quite soft and warm. She sat down and snuggled in against his chest. Rubbing the satin ribbon between her fingers, she easily drifted off to sleep.

Glitch woke up with a start, sweat dripping down his back. He wasn't sure if it was a memory or a nightmare, but either way, it was fading fast. He poked DG in the side, hoping to tell her about it before he forgot.

"What is it?" she whispered, leaning close to him so they wouldn't wake the others.

"Urrg, I don't know," he said, frustrated that it was already too late. One thought still stayed with him though, "DG, I promise never to break another promise to you!"

She stared at him, confused. "I'm pretty sure you've never promised me anything, but whatever you say, Glitch."

As she settled back down to sleep, Glitch stayed up to keep watch. Whether it was to protect DG, or to protect the rest of the world from her, he suddenly wasn't sure.


End file.
